By my second month as CEO, it was clear the problems weren’t just operational. They were existential.
Yes, we had tough business challenges—unprofitable accounts, upset customers, a bleeding acquisition. But beneath all that was something harder to name: noise.
Everyone had a different idea of what the company should be doing. Everyone had a theory about what was wrong. The management team meetings, once meant for alignment and progress, had turned into therapy sessions. Our leadership coach, Chet, had been running development workshops, but now those had dissolved into complaint marathons.
I felt overwhelmed. And worse, I felt unmoored.
You Can’t Lead Others Until You Can Lead Yourself
Sensing the chaos, Chet pulled me aside. He asked me questions I didn’t expect:
- What’s your purpose?
- What do you want out of this life?
- What would make your leadership meaningful—to you?
I resisted. I was here to fix a company, not analyze my soul. But Chet was patient, and persistent. He handed me a list of questions and told me to write—not for him, not for public consumption, just for me.
So I did.
In two- to four-hour blocks over the next few weeks, I wrote. At first it was mechanical. But slowly, something shifted. The writing became a mirror. I started to see what I really believed. What I cared about. What I wanted to build—not just fix.
That self-clarity became a kind of power. The noise outside me began to lose its grip because I had quieted the noise within.
Clarity Shared Becomes Culture
On a long flight to the West Coast, I opened a blank document and began drafting what would become our company’s “philosophy card.”
It included a mission, a vision, and a short list of operating principles. They weren’t slogans. They were a reflection of what I had come to believe about leadership, work, and human dignity. And they aligned with how I wanted to lead.
The leadership team helped refine the card. Then we printed and distributed it to every associate in the company.
More importantly, we lived it. I taught from it. We referred to it in meetings. When someone made a difficult decision and said, “That’s what the card would call for,” I knew we were turning a corner.
Over time, the philosophy card became more than a document. It became our shared language. It quieted the noise.
Reflection Questions
- What is the loudest source of noise in your leadership today? Is it internal or external?
- When was the last time you clarified your purpose—on paper, for yourself?
- Do the people you lead know what you stand for?
In the next post, I’ll share how we extended that clarity outward—not just to our team, but to our stakeholders. Because the moment you become CEO, your list of “bosses” expands far beyond the boardroom.